Will We Make It thru December Part Seven
by solista
Summary: December 28, Murdoch's birthday. He receives more than he wished for.


Will We Make It Thru December

Part Seven

December 28

When Murdoch Lancer left Scotland, he had stars in his eyes and hope in his heart.

For a young man to leave his home and family and even the very country of his birth was an intimidating first step. It was his soul, which yearned for more than he had here.

He had come; he had found love... twice. Had his family torn apart... twice and recently after many lonely years has reunited with the two sons he thought lost to him forever.

The sun had not yet shown its soft glow. The big man stood behind his desk looking out in to still darkness.

He did not need to see his dream his legacy to know what the land looked like. He knew every nook and cranny of his vast empire.

He sipped his coffee, it was the first pot of the day and he always enjoyed it before the quiet was broken by the new day.

It was his birthday today... fifty-one years old. Fifty-one years ago, he took his first breath of Scotland, cradled in a mother's loving arms.

His birthdays throughout the years were never elaborate, having Christmas celebrations just days before.

Murdoch smiled, nothing fancy, but there was always love from his family. As the young child grew into a young man, his heart began a quest.

The excitement of something new, of what was around the next hill. He sat through the school days and absorbed everything he could; he knew he would need the knowledge.

He honed a work ethic, which stayed with him even today. In addition, he was a firm believer in obtaining the unobtainable as long as you put your heart and soul in it.

In addition, Murdoch Lancer suffered no fools; God gave a person a brain and the will to use it, a choice to go left or right.

And the Good Lord also gave man a heart, it was the choice of the individual to nurture it and make it grow healthy and full of love or to let it wither and grow cold and lifeless, never allowing love to take hold and blossom.

His own heart had known love and sorrow, and loneliness. Before his sons came home, he was on a fast track to becoming a cold and bitter man.

The meeting with his sons was not the best it could have been, he was cold and bitter and afraid. So very afraid they would turn their backs on him and write him off as dead.

Sipping his coffee he heard a soft scrape on the flagstone floor, turning around he saw his younger son.

A yawn that took in a good part of his face, a hand rubbing the unruly black mop of hair on his head, and a soft sigh as the yawn ended.

A smile broke on his lips and a soft voice greeted his father, "Hey Ol' Man... Dios it's not even light yet...its yer birthday why aint ya still asleep?"

Even upon waking his younger son never wobbled but always flowed with a cat like grace, "Ya got anymore of that coffee, an why aint ya got tha fire stoked. It's gonna be cold today..."

Murdoch poured his son a cup of coffee as he watched the young man force a fire out of the logs in the fireplace.

Johnny did not talk much, his was a quiet listening personality, unless he was distracted or wanted to discuss something important, then the young man would ramble on about nothing in particular.

Johnny took the offered cup of coffee, blowing across the hot liquid to cool it; he took his first sip...hot and strong just as he liked it.

Murdoch's critical eye took in his younger son, compact, lean and strong. He was a male version of his mother, a handsome boy, "Son what are you doing up so early, you could sleep for another hour."

He lifted one shoulder and tilted his head, "Couldn't sleep no more... thinkin' 'bout that stallion you found me."

Smiling indulgently Murdoch spoke softly, "Well son you already had the mare...it only seemed right you had the stud."

Johnny shifted on one foot, getting more comfortable as he stood beside his father, his thoughts silent, "Dios what a big man...sure has changed this last few months. Seemed like at times I could do no right... my past kept gettin' in tha way. But now it feels right to be here, next to him."

"You said something son," Murdoch questioned his son when the words he mumbled were too soft to hear.

"Well..." Johnny dipped his head when he raised it; it was into the blue of his father s eyes.

"Well it's... I've noticed things have changed, you've gotten more ah... tolerant of my ways... I guess."

Murdoch gave a little laugh, "Yes son I have changed 'my tune' a bit since you and your brother came home. I learned almost too late that you were grown men, you have entirely different personalities and I can't treat you like children."

Father and son grew quiet, as they stood looking out of the great window watching the dawn turn the new fallen snow into glistening diamonds.

"Murdoch," Johnny's one word had the older man turn around and look at his son.

"Yes, son," Murdoch waited, he had learned one thing about his enigmatic younger son... you never pushed him into revealing what was on his mind, it would come...the waiting sometimes grating on his nerves.

Johnny fingered the half-empty coffee mug, "Well it's like this... I don't really have tha right ta ask ya... but..." again the silence and the wait.

"Johnny you can ask me anything, I can say yes or no or even maybe. But son you can ask me anything," Murdoch would wait... what great crisis was brewing in his dark haired sons head.

"Well, would I, on occasion, be allowed to call you Popi?"

Murdoch grasp his own coffee cup to the verge of crushing the heavy mug within his huge hands, he closed his eyes and his heart soared, "Son it would me who would be privileged to hear you call me that. I've longed for it since the last time I heard it when you were almost two."

Johnny's shoulders pulled up a little from the slouch he had been in, "I didn't know... I really haven't earned tha right..."

Murdoch sat his cup down on the desktop and gripped his son's upper arms, "No son it is me that has not earned the right for you to call me Popi. Son, Johnny... I would be honored that you could think of me enough to even want to."

Johnny looked up into his fathers faced and smiled, "Ok Popi... but I promise ta not embarrass ya in front o' your friends and business associates."

Cupping his son's neck in back, under the too long hair, Murdoch let his fingers brush through the ends of the black silky locks, "Son you call me Popi whenever or wherever you want, I'd be proud to let the world know who my younger son is."

Johnny's eyes sparkled like the snow outside the hacienda, he almost looked ten years younger standing there and Murdoch wanted to crush his boy to his heart and feel them both beating in time together.

It was the boy who made the move, even though the cup of coffee was still held in his hand he moved one arm around his father's broad back, "Gracias Popi," that was all Murdoch needed to 'crush' his boy to his heart.

_**LANCER**_

The sun was now peeking over the mountains and the compound bathed in the soft glow, the powdering of snow would soon melt with the coming sun. However, it glistened like a fairyland just now.

Murdoch turned from the window at the sound of a boot heel striking the flagstone.

His younger son had fled the room after the shared display of fatherly love citing the need to 'check the horses'.

He saw his elder son enter the great room, dressed to perfection from the top of his blond head to the shine on his boots, "Scott, good morning son."

Scott put forth a timid smile, he was unsure if his stalwart father would appreciate the open display of a newfound love for this man who was his father.

"Son come in and join me for a cup of coffee," as Murdoch set about pouring a cup of the hot brew for his elder son he smiled as he handed the full cup over.

"You just missed your brother, he couldn't wait for the sun to be up before checking on his horses," he picked up his own cup and motioned for Scott to sit.

Scott moved to one of the leather chairs in front of his father's desk, he had to grin around a sip of coffee, a shared secret between brothers.

Johnny called the rolling leather chair Murdoch now sat in as the '_seat of power'_.

Scott referred to the desk and chair as the '_bastion of power for the tune caller'. _Whatever the reference the brothers felt that it was a place where recalcitrant children sat to allocate their punishment.

Today... something had changed; today he was a man enjoying a cup of coffee with his father, what changed?"

Murdoch was talking and Scott had to clear the thoughts from his mind, "Sir?"

"I said Johnny's much taken with the idea of starting a breeding program," Murdoch looked over the top of his cup... should he tell his elder son what Johnny had asked and the answer that was given.

"Johnny gave me my first birthday gift this morning," Murdoch was amused when Scott began looking the room over with his eyes, "He said we would present it together, I..."

"Scott," the father smiled at his sons face, "It wasn't anything material... it was something from the heart."

"Oh, ok... I thought. Mmmm what did my brother say... if I may ask, if it's not too personal, sir." Scott was at a loss for words, "I mean if it was just between you and Johnny..."

"No, son, it's not a secret... he asked my permission for him to call me Popi; it's what he called me when he was a toddler."

Murdoch smiled, "it was to me one of the best gifts he could have given me. I of course told him yes."

Scott was not stunned, just blindsided, Johnny had discussed this very thing with him, and being the older wiser big brother, he said the only thing he could, 'follow your heart'.

The younger man had obviously made their father happy. Could it be that easy, Johnny after all had a relationship with the man for almost two years?

Scott reflected, he had not, had not even been born at Lancer. However, he could feel the land under his feet could feel the bond it had with the blood of his father flowing in his veins.

"I'm glad for you and Johnny, sir. He needs you more than he thinks," Scott grew silent, his mind in battle with his heart, could it be that easy.

"Sir, Murdoch... I wish I could just erase all the lonely, hurting feelings I have carried for years, I can't."

Murdoch leaned in over his desk, "Son please I understand, and I wish things had been different, we can't change the past. One day I hope and pray we can overcome this barrier and settle into a true father and son relationship."

Scott raised his head and looked at his father, the blue eyes understanding, hoping, "Well sir suffice it to say I will not be leaving Lancer due to..."

"Leavin' Lancer..." the two men had not heard the entrance of the youngest Lancer, "What the hell is this all about...who's leavin' Lancer?"

Scott stood to head his over wrought brother off before angry words were un-retrievable, "Johnny, it's not like..."

Scott stood between his father and brother, "Johnny listen, you didn't hear everything, I said, **I **would not be leaving Lancer anytime soon, I had my boots firmly planted here."

Johnny let go a held breath, he couldn't deal with people coming and going in his life. He felt like a thin-shelled egg, if held too hard, he would break and his life would run out of him.

He sheepishly looked from his brother to his father, "Guess my lightn' quick reflexes shouldn't include my hearin'. Lo siento Popi, Lo siento Scott. I feel like a..."

"Like someone whose rug was pulled out from under him," Scott smiled and patted his brother's arm.

Murdoch smiled, his boys at least understood one another... he was the novice in this father son relationship... but he was learning.

"Well mijo, how were the horses," Murdoch sat back in his chair as his sons each took their chair. Johnny always on Scotts' right, having told his brother it was 'so his gun hand was free and clear'.

"Ok, Barranca is a little prickly 'bout tha stallion, but once I get that breedin' barn built and tha corral's a distance away... and Barranca ain't gotta be close ta him... everything will be fine," jumping up Johnny continued, "Hey Boston let's go get Murdoch's gifts, T'resa an Maria 'bout got breakfast ready... well come on..."

Scott shook his head and looked at Murdoch, "It might have been a blessing we both didn't come home until later in life... how could we have survived a Johnny flare-up everyday."

Murdoch smiled at his boys, "One could only guess, son. I would like to continue our talk sometime."

Scott turned back from following his younger brother from the room, "I would look forward to it Sir... father."

A stunned Murdoch watched the son he had never held as a child walk from the room... he wanted to pull him back and hug him as he had done with Johnny.

Maybe that was too soon for the quiet young man. One day ... yes one day.

_**LANCER**_

There was the familiar big breakfast, the shouted HAPPY BIRTHDAY and the presents.

Murdoch looked around the table, "I told you all this was not necessary, we just had Christmas. And I know for fact money does not grow on trees."

Johnny had an impish smile on his lips, "Nah, but... Lancer has good credit at Baldamaros Emporium."

At a look from his father Scott stepped in, "Johnny be nice, we paid for everything out of our _**own**_ pockets."

Still with a devilment in his brilliant blue eyes Johnny continued, "Yeah Ol' Man ifn' we didn't have tha money I just told 'em Madrid was still available."

Scott slapped at his younger brother with the napkin in his hand, "Johnny, stop it or I will take you to task as your older, wiser brother."

Teresa and Maria were giggling behind hands against their lips, "Johnny," Teresa said stifling the laughter in her voice, "just rein in that mouth of yours and let the man open his gifts."

Shooting a glare at his sister, which had laughter in its depth, the young man smiled, "Ok... ok I'll be good."

"Hey Scott go on an present tha first one," Johnny could almost be said that he squirmed in his chair with anticipation.

Scott shook his head, such a rascal, his little brother, "Little brother try and contain your self. It's not as if you are receiving the gifts."

Johnny sat still and turned his eyes on his brother, "I know Scott... I remember all about your lecture on the givin' and receivin' o' presents. I ain't no kid... it's just... Hey Popi open Teresa's first... she probly got ya a new bandana or sumpin' girlie like."

Every person in the room shook their head, only Johnny.

Murdoch was enjoying the banter between his children, his ears had so longed for this.

He made a clearing of the throat sound and all eyes turned to him, "Since it _**is my**_ birthday I think I will choose Miss Teresa's gift first...after all what could be more practical than a new bandana."

Giggles, guffaws, snickers were returned as a way of turning this event over to the '_**tune caller**_'.

Indeed, there was a bandana, two to be exact. In addition, a new, hand sewn shirt, "Thank you darling just what I needed."

Johnny fingered the shirt and smiled, "You do good work Querida, how are ya at puttin' fancy stitchin' on a shirt?"

Theresa smiled, "Why thank you Johnny... I do embroidery for pleasure, but I've never tried anything like the shirts you wear."

Turning to his big brother Johnny smiled, "Hey Scott in that proper manners book is it ok ta drop a hint as to my next birthday present?"

Scott smiling back, "Indeed it is little brother. That would insure you getting something you want and making it a lot easier on the giver."

Grinning like a Cheshire cat Johnny threw an arm around Jelly's shoulders, "Whooee ya hear that Jelly, think a simple yeah would have sufficed?"

The older man sniffed and put his hands on his suspenders, "Well ta be sure it would 'ave Johnny, but the way yer brother talks it just wouldn't a been tha same."

Before Johnny could form a come back line Murdoch hefted another gift, "Oh Jelly you shouldn't have."

"Well it 'taint much boss, but every man needs one I 'spec," Jelly was just as anxious as Johnny for the birthday boy to open his gifts.

Jelly's gift was much appreciated and passed around so all could see. It was a watertight tin to hold matches, engraved on the outside was the Lancer brand.

Johnny looked over to his brother, he wasn't sure, now his gift would be received in the manner as the others gifts, Scott's gift was practical and very fine.

Murdoch picked the new saddlebags from the box and admired the workmanship of the leather, "And, Sir, one of the bags is lined with oil cloth to keep what is inside dry. also a side pocket to store letters or contracts without bending them out of shape."

"Scott this is great, thank you son. I can see this getting much use," Murdoch stroked the leather once more before setting it down beside him.

All eyes turned to Johnny, waiting, expecting the gift.

Johnny nodded, "OK, but just ta let ya'll know I ain't seen tha finished product yet, it was just delivered this mornin'."

Scott went to stand beside his brother, "It will be fine Johnny... after all it was from the heart."

Johnny disappeared through the kitchen door a few minutes later he returned with a cloth draped flat object.

It was almost as tall as he was, and his arms were stretched full out with a grip on the edges, "Popi I wanted you ta have sumpin' ta ... well when ya looked at it... oh dang I ain't no good at gift givin' anyhow."

Scott took the 'gift' and unwrapped it, Johnny cringed he had not seen it and he was unsure of the finished project.

Murdoch looked at the painting closely, it was good, very good. The subject one close to his heart, three men sat horses on a ridge overlooking the Lancer hacienda.

Closer exam of the three men his heart took wing and his eyes filled with moisture. There on three very identifiable horses was Murdoch Lancer flanked by Johnny on one side and Scott on the other, their faces turned in profile looking out over Lancer.

Jelly wiped at his eyes, "Dang cold air got my eyes a waterin'."

Maria did not hold back and openly wiped the tears from her eyes with the edge of her apron.

Teresa sided up to her guardian and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging herself to his side.

Scott stepped back and had to admit this would rival any known artist in Boston, "Johnny it's beautiful, I have had the pleasure of viewing many artists' works and this... I must say is incredible."

Murdoch looked over to his younger boy, "Son you haven't seen this yet? Come over here and look."

Johnny raised his head and was amazed no one was running from the room. Slowly walking to his father, he turned and saw the portrait.

It was good, they had caught the three men in a reflective pose, and the colors of the valley were spectacular. The hacienda seemed to glow in the middle of a sea of greens.

Peering closer he smiled, "Hey you can even see Jelly and Dewdrop."

"Where," the older man pushed forward to stare at the painting.

Scott hid a laugh, "Jelly, Johnny's pulling your leg."

The smaller man turned, looking like a cock ready for a fight, "Bein' smart agin' are ya. Well I got some work fer ya ta do that'll take the grin ofin' yer smart aleck face."

"Son," Johnny turned at his father's voice. "Johnny thank you for this I don't know how you had it done, but thank you. This very scene is something I had dreamed of for years. Thank you son, I'll hang it where everyone can see it."

"No es nada Popi. Hey it's your day off, whatcha wanna do." Johnny looked expectantly at his father figuring tha old man would sit by the fire reading a book and sipping his brandy.

"What I would like is to spend the day with my sons. Teresa and Maria have already packed our bags; Cipriano has the horses and packs ready. I want to head up into the tree line and go hunting for a few days. You boys game?"

Scott bowed his head, then looked up a smile lifting one corner of his mouth, I would love to, Father."

Johnny grinned, "Nuthin' I'd like better, Popi."

Jelly snapping his suspenders rocked on his boots, "Well then get on outta here tha days a wastin'. Boss I'll hang that there paintin' right where it can be seen by anyone entering the hacienda."

"Thank you Jelly. Maria, gracias, the breakfast was very good. Teresa my dear, when we get back I will take you into Green River and we will have dinner out."

Motioning to the door, "Boys shall we go?"

Boot heels and elbows was all he saw as his boys pushed and elbowed their way to the door, _**"BOYS!"**_

As one, the younger men turned at their father's voice, _**"SIR?"**_ They answered back in kind.

Johnny put a well-placed elbow in Scott's side, "We forgot who's birthday it is, an he calls tha tune."

Scott bowed at the hip and waved a hand to the door, "By all means, Father lead the way."

Standing on each side of the door his sons waited, Murdoch smiled, "Cheeky little rascals. Go on get out of here, I'll be there in a minute."

Turning once more to look at the painting Murdoch smiled, yes this was his best birthday ever.

_**LANCER**_

Sitting before the fire in the great room at Lancer, he reflected upon the last few days. He had turned fifty-one, his sons had accepted him as 'father' and the hunting trip was a success.

Not only did they have fresh venison for the New Year, but also he had gained new insights as to the workings of his boys.

They were both complex young men, held much to their selves, but each man would give of himself fully.

He was so proud of them both, equally, without reserve. It was touch and go there with his younger son.

Johnny's past as a gunfighter was constantly driving a wedge between them, the boy tried very hard to put that past behind him. Nevertheless, a hardheaded old man resisted the change in the enigmatic younger man.

Scott was doing his best to put the years of loneliness behind him. He was a giving young man, sometimes giving more than beyond the 'helping hand' of a compassionate man.

There would appear at times a past filled with pain and horror from the time spent in a war that pulled a nation apart.

The past, if he could only have it in his power to change the past, to make his boys whole.

To have given them both a security of family and a father that cared deeply for his sons. To have them never feel the pain of rejection or bigotry.

He smiled, they were home now, and they gave him a gift beyond anything of monetary value, they gave him acceptance and love.

Gave him a chance to be a father, and he would grab that olive branch with both hands and nurture it.

He was sure now of one thing... the Lancer name would live on, it would be a legacy for the generations to follow.

Looking at the painting his younger son had given him today, was looking at more than just a dream it was the future.

_**Happy Birthday**_

_**Murdoch Lancer **_

_**And**_

_**Andrew Duggan**_


End file.
